


All Things Great and Small

by AcierGlace



Series: An Equivalent Exchange (or How Tony Stark Makes Friends, Sometimes Literally) [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Tony Stark and his Bots - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 09:11:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13521108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcierGlace/pseuds/AcierGlace
Summary: In times of grief, we should be able to turn to our family. Sometimes, that family is something you've built from the ground up (and fervently denied ever coding in the sass).





	All Things Great and Small

**Author's Note:**

> This is a time skip back at the beginning, and a pickup from where we'd left off before. Should make sense narratively, but please let me know if it doesn't.

Tony tries not to feel smug when he opens the door, but he's finally taller than Ed. 

Ed's also finally coming to him for repairs, but the height thing is a tiny bit more important. 

“Not a fucking word, or it'll be your last word. Got it, pint-sized?” Ed's scowling, hunched to one side against his brother and the dutiful suit of armor at their back stalwart. 

“Hm? What was that?” Tony smirks, stretching up so the extra two inches are really evident. 

Al sighs, but both Tony and Ed ignore him. 

“If your shitty arm isn't the best thing to happen to my life in this world, I'm gonna sic-” 

“Excuse me! My arm is gonna be better than that scrap heap you showed up in-” 

“That arm was a marvel of modern science if I remember someone right-”

“Until someone tried to be their own mechanic-” 

“Better than letting creeper SSR get their grubby fingers-”

“Better than anything even dreamt of-”

“I think not-”

Tony's not still as they snark back and forth at each other. He pushes chairs out of the way, kicks a few empty bourbon bottles under the table, and grabs a screwdriver off the table as he passes to twirl in his fingers as he moves. 

Al leads them inside, the lab door closing behind the armor. It plants itself against the door, and Tony brushes aside several different blueprints to make room on the table. Al dumps Ed in a nearby chair, stepping back as Tony leans in.

“Is there a kitchen somewhere nearby?” 

“-couldn't even figure out reticulated – Yeah, back room. Mostly just a sink, fridge, and a microwave. Rhodey stopped by a few days ago and stocked up here – so unless you want all the coordination of a drunk monkey-” 

“Like you currently?” Ed asks, eyes trailing over the few bottles of whiskey littering the benches and tables around the perimeter of the room. 

Tony feels heat lick up his face, something like shame and then a slow burning anger stirring up his chest. 

“So where were you? Couldn't even be bothered to show up to the wake?” Tony stares at the arm he's pulled out and placed on the lab desk. “Saving the world from washed up scientists and trying every way you can think of to bail out of here and get back home where you belong.” 

Ed shifts. 

“Oh, hello. Who are you?” 

He jerks his head up, and there's Al and Dummy, both of them holding the same bottle of water. Dummy's claw is bending the plastic, squeezing with enough force that water spews into a little puddle at his base. 

The heat in his chest builds. 

“Dummy! Get over here!” 

The robot moves in a stuttering way, obviously trying not to spill anymore water and it's endearing and embarrassing and oh god, all of the smug victory he felt at the start of this stupid day is shrinking fast. Dummy stops at his side, slowly extending his claw to Tony, and Tony takes the bottle of water, unable to stop himself from petting the dumb machine. 

“Yeah, good job, Dummy. Maybe leave delicate stuff to the scientists, next time, yeah?” 

Dummy wobbles a nod, zipping off with some speed to the broom leaning in the corner. Tony sighs, but as long as Dummy's busy with the broom, he'll leave the rest of them alone. 

“If that's an example of your talent, I'm rethinking this decision.” Ed's watching Dummy too. 

“He's a work in progress,” Tony snaps.

“Ed!” Al hisses.

Tony grabs the arm to have something to do, flexing out the fingers. 

“Tony, I'm sorry we couldn't be here,” Al says, and that's reassurance he doesn't want. 

Ed and Al never really stayed in his circle of friends. They showed up when they had to, and they never stayed any longer than they had to either. Not that Tony needed them. He had Obie and Rhodey, and he'd had Sunset and Rumiko and Tiberius until they'd all shown just how valuable his friendship was.

What made Ed different than Tiberius or Sunset? Just interested in what they could get out of him – 

“Tony.” Ed's hand, his flesh hand, covers the back of his neck, the fingers rough and skin slightly cold. He squeezes and all the tension building in Tony's shoulders just dissolves. “Tell me about my new arm.” 

“Always wanting something,” he says, “Don't you ever get tired of being a freeloader?” 

And Dummy brings the broom down, right on Ed's shoulder. 

Tony stares as Ed falls to the lab floor, Dummy still hitting him with the bristle end of the broom. 

Al starts to laugh. 

“Dummy!” Tony jumps to his feet, but there's no safe way to intervene without getting hit himself. 

“Stark!” Ed wiggles under the table, and Dummy awkwardly follows after him. “Call him off!” 

Al is laughing so hard he stumbles back to the wall. 

Tony stares. 

He wants to laugh. He wraps a hand over his mouth. His shoulders start to shake. 

“Stark!” Ed howls, and somewhere, somewhere under the table, he's found an empty vodka bottle, and he's using it to fend off Dummy's broom. “Damn it Stark!” 

Tony grabs the edge of the table and bursts out laughing. 

“Dummy! Dummy! Come here! You idiot, Dummy, get over here,” Tony reaches out to Dummy, and the robot obviously swivels between Ed and Tony, the broom flying in every direction as his claw moves. Tony ducks away and Dummy drops the broom, rolling to Tony with a bobbing claw. 

“What the hell is wrong with your robot, Stark?” Ed creeps out from under the table, awkwardly holding himself up since he's got the vodka bottle in one hand and no other arm. 

“I don't think he liked your attitude, blondie,” Tony says, running a fond hand over one of Dummy's supports. “Maybe you should ask me for things nicely.” 

Dummy leans into Tony's body, angling himself between Tony and the Elrics. 

“Some protector you've got there, Stark.” Ed drops the bottle and reaches out his arm. “Gonna help me out from under here?” 

Dummy rolls more into the way. 

“This is why you should be nicer to people, brother,” Al says, and he comes away from the wall to help Ed up. 

Ed narrows his eyes, but whatever else he's thinking doesn't show on his face. 

“Whatever.” He collapses back into the chair, turning eyes onto the arm with feigned disinterest. He's obviously watching Dummy from the corner of his eye, and he predictably jumps when Dummy grabs the broom again. “Are we doing this thing or what?” 

Tony nudges Dummy out of the way. 

Or he attempts to, but Dummy is solid and unmovable by force. He almost hits Al when he turns to look at Tony. 

“You can chase him out of here when we're all done, okay?” 

Ed scoffs, but Dummy goes to the task of cleaning the floor with some enthusiasm. 

“So let's see what you've done to yourself, huh? Time to strip.” Tony waves an impatient hand, not even trying to hide the smile on his face now. 

Ed does strip off his shirt, revealing a lot more scarred flesh than he remembers from spying on Ed and Al when SSR prodded at them. The previously gleaming metal that replaces his right shoulder looks like something chewed it off. 

“What the hell?” Tony breathes, because that is a lot more serious than they'd said over the phone. 

“Brother didn't believe the locals were being serious when they said they had a space dragon living in their mountain,” Al says, “Apparently, space dragons are also called Makluan, who come from the Maklu system.” 

“Space dragons,” Tony repeats. 

“His people were travellers. While his people explored, Foom and his followers sought to conqueror. Fortunately, their shape changing isn't perfect and General Bai Qi was able to defeat their soldiers and imprison Foom in the mountain. And you know how brother is about dragons.” 

Yeah. Ed was gonna find himself a dragon and reopen the portal back home or some such bullshit. 

Everything always came back to going home for them. 

“Hey. That's not what I'm doing.” Ed's voice is sharp. “I told you this story before. About our half-brother who traveled to this world and became a dragon. The Thule Society used him to open the Gate. If there's even the smallest chance that it could happen again, that the Thule Society lives on in Hydra, then I”m gonna be there to stop them. They don't get to take our world too.” 

“And because you could leave,” Tony says. He doesn't mean to, but he's bad at stopping his impulses. 

“We're not going anywhere. This is our home now.” Ed's hand comes up, hesitates briefly in the air, and then it's resting on the crown of Tony's head. “You are our family here.” 

“Why weren't you here then?” Tony can barely hear the words himself, but Ed clearly does. 

His hand falls to Tony's shoulder. 

“SSR wasn't sure it had been an accident, at first. So Pierce sent us looking for culprits.” Ed squeezes his shoulder. “If someone had done that on purpose and were just waiting to go after you next-” 

“We didn't find a culprit. But there were a few people who were going to take advantage of the situation. We dealt with them.” Al comes up to his side and his arm wraps around Tony's shoulders. “That lead us all the way to some group calling themselves the Ten Rings. And the space dragon they were trying to find.” 

“And you couldn't even bother to call?” 

“That's on me,” Ed says, “I got caught up looking for someone to blame. I wanted someone I could blame.” 

“You'll just have to settle for blaming Howard.” Tony closes his eyes and doesn't voice the rest of that thought. 

“I can blame myself, too. Never should have let it get as bad as it did.” 

“That's not on you. He made his own choices. He was always getting worse. This was just a matter of time. I just-” Tony swallows hard, and regrets even thinking about this right now. About pianos and perfume and a warm presence that could calm any raging thought in his head. 

“Your mother deserved better,” Ed whispers, “Better than being an afterthought in all of this.” 

Tony turns into Al's side to hide from that, from the chasm of grief that's always hovering a few inches behind him. Everyone's been grieving the loss of Howard Stark, and only a few words are left for Maria. And they're wife and mother. Not humanitarian. Not peace maker. Not advocate for human rights. Not philanthropist. And certainly not about the schools she funded, the arts programs she created, the memorials she built, the villages she aided, the wells that were dug, the abortion clinics that opened, the vaccines that made a difference. Everything she did in her own name, cast under the shadow of her husband.

The world lost someone who held a hand out to the sick and needy and offered peace. 

Not just the man of war she married. 

“I miss her,” he whispers into Al's shoulder. 

Cold metal closes around him, Dummy's supports coming over Al's shoulder to tuck his claw as close as he can to Tony's chest. Tony turns a hand to clutch at Dummy's claw, smiling despite himself. 

“Can we stop with the sad party, guys? I'm really not feeling it. Way too sober,” Tony mutters, holding tighter to Dummy as the robot moves away. Al steps away from him, and Tony misses the warm body pressed to his side instantly. 

He's been drinking and fucking his way through his grief for a reason. 

“I think I'll get that water now,” Al says, leaving Tony to gather himself.

Dummy moves closer with the broom, obviously unsure what to do right now. 

“So.” Ed's watching Dummy, but he turns once Tony's looking at him. “You've got something for me.” 

-X-

“You know, we've had several very generous donations come through the Maria Stark Foundation.” 

“Hm.” 

“Yeah, see, when it's seized property from your villain of the week, you had to know I'd find out.” 

“Don't see why it mattered. We've been doing it for years.” Ed snorts. “Why you have to bring it up now-” 

“Ah! What did I say about moving!” 

“Come on Stark, just hurry it up.” 

Tony whistles. 

Dummy inches forward. 

Ed sighs. 

And more importantly, he stops twitching. 

“I'm just saying, I got a call from a very, very unhappy Latverian diplomat. And then someone in Tennessee. And then practically every house in Little Cayman suddenly sold, profits to the Maria Stark Foundation. Someone was very busy this year.” 

“Cut off one head,” Ed mutters. 

“Well, with our resident super soldier, you'll probably see more space dragons in your line of work soon.” Tony pulls his hands away, smiling at his handiwork. 

Ed's watching Dummy, but he starts when You and Butterfingers suddenly flank Dummy, cameras and claws darting forward curiously. 

The arm jerks under Tony's hands and all of the delicate machinery he'd been repairing jostles. 

“Ed! Sit still!” 

“Shut up, Stark,” Ed says.

“Sir, may I suggest removing the others from the room?” 

“Yes! Thank you Jarvis! See? You want me still, get them out,” Ed says, smirk pulling at his lips. 

“You get chased out by broom one time, suddenly it's a big deal,” Tony says, but he's not going to send anyone away. 

It's all part of the process. 

“I get chased out by broom every damn time. Every time. Even that one time I was literally saving your life-” 

“You were not!” 

“I'm sorry, but what do you call wrapping your leg in a tourniquet so you didn't bleed out-” 

“It was a small cut! The armor slipped and nicked my thigh – slipped because you ran in here out of nowhere-”

“No one can get you to answer and you're laying in a pool of blood-”

“I barely needed stitches!”

“Tourniquet!” 

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up!” Toy hisses, eyes darting to the lab door. “Captain Anxiety does not need to know this and if you don't shut your filthy mouth-” 

“You'll what? Chase me with a broom?” 

“I'm gonna make you regret your entire life-” 

“Already know you, how much worse can it get-” 

“-since you'll never be able to show your face-” 

“Are you sure they're friends?” Steve's coming through the door, half a smile on his face but his eyebrows pulled down. Al's half a step behind him, and there's the rest of them, eyes darting around with barely concealed interest. 

So his workshop is a little special. And they're only ever in here for short quick bursts. And no one ever really hangs out. Which is a shame because You and Butterfingers are so sassy, and Dummy's a rolling disaster, but it's always so warm-

“We're friends!” Tony shouts, half rising out of the stool he's on but reluctant to move far. 

If he lets go, Ed'll move and it'll be like doing Butterfinger's stabilizers all over again, just endlessly running in the same circle because he's narrow-focused and Butterfingers is stubborn-

“We're friends,” Ed agrees, twisting in his own stool, and there's that mulish set to his jaw. 

Tony's seen it before. 

Usually right before Ed decks someone.

Al's armor brings up the end of the group, settling in a corner and immediately attracting interest from You and Butterfingers. They'd never seen it before, after all, but Dummy didn't move from his spot. 

“Don't usually have this many visitors,” Tony says, shifting back down onto the stool. “Welcome to the Stark Palace, I guess.” 

“We've been in here before,” Clint reminds him, maintaining some distance from Al's armor, the robots, and every work surface.

“Probably not when it's in full swing, though,” Bruce says, stepping up next to Tony with Al right beside him. 

Al's hand grips his brother's shoulder, and then he's settling on the work table right behind Ed. 

“That is a very interesting piece of machinery.” Bruce runs a finger over the forearm, his own arm just a hairsbreadth over Tony's shoulder. It's making him slightly nervous, especially when he sees Dummy roll over to Steve. 

“Tony knows what he's doing. And can you all back up? This is the shitty part,” Ed snarls around the last word, his body tensing as Tony readies to attach the nerves. 

Al braces his brother, and then there's Dummy weighing him in place, too, and Tony throws it as soon as Ed looks up, and then Ed howls. 

Everyone flinches, and then – 

You and Butterfingers bodily grab several Avengers by the arms and tug them out of the lab, despite fervent protests, complaints, and shouted confusion. 

“If everyone would please adjourn to another area,” Jarvis politely requests as several pieces of armor come to life and form a barrier between Tony, Ed, Al and Dummy and the rest of the Avengers. 

You pulls Natasha out, Butterfingers shepherding Clint and Thor, and Bruce and Steve neither want to tangle with the armors J's piloting, letting themselves be pushed out the lab doors. 

Ed's heavy breaths hit Tony's neck, and he startles. Despite the hold Dummy and Al have on him, he's slipped forward on his stool and nearly into Tony's lap. Tony's hands come up, fingers tangling in Ed's messy hair, and meets Al's concerned and sympathetic eyes. They're very pretty golden brown, just a bit warmer than Ed's – 

“I think I need to fucking lie down,” Ed says, and Dummy's curling up more to support Ed. 

“Yeah, yeah. I remember your ridiculous demands,” Tony says, fingers drumming over clammy skin. “I've got his bed all made up. Help me move him?” 

“Thanks, Tony,” Al says, and between the three of them, they manage to move Ed into the small alcove off the lab. The one where Tony himself ends up when Dummy, You, and Butterfingers gang up on him and pull him away from sleep-deprived projects. 

Ed's eager to snuggle his face down into the fluffy pillows and tattered blankets, and his weight drags Al and Tony down into the bed with him. 

Dummy hovers over them, and by now, the others have all been kicked out of the lab, and Tony will apologize some time later, but right now, his weird little family is mostly together. 

Just missing a few people, but the bed's not big enough down here for everyone anyway. 

You and Butterfingers park themselves sentry by Al's armor. 

“I'll set the alarm for the usual time, sir,” Jarvis says, no longer a guiding hand in Tony's armors. 

“Thanks, J.” Tony breathes in a mouthful of someone's hair, but then hands are adjusting him and Ed.

“We'll rest for a bit and then go make nice,” Al says, his fingers squeezing the back of Tony's neck. 

Ed is out cold at this point, and doesn't have a mind for English anymore, Amestrisan accent muddling Cretan, Drachman, Ishvalan, Xingese, and so many regional dialects to a world Tony won't ever know. People Tony won't ever meet. Inventions he won't ever use. Food he won't ever taste. 

A universe out there is missing two people, but Tony's selfish and he's never giving them back.

**Author's Note:**

> No planned continuation (but obviously that doesn't mean nothing's impossible).


End file.
